Into the Light
by superphan
Summary: Lydia is desperate for a job to support herself and her blind older sister. She takes a position as a maid for a man she has never seen. When she finds a piano in the house and begins to play, her employer is shocked by her talent, the equal of his own.
1. Chapter 1

Into the Light 

**Disclaimer**: Gaston Leroux and ALW own POTO, not me.

The air was silent, stifling. It filled the old manor with an eerie atmosphere, seemingly deserted. There was no sign of life in the dark rooms, but for a young woman, tip-toeing softly through the oppressive halls.

Lydia walked softly up the stairs, preferring to begin her cleaning job at the top and work her way down to the cellar. She opened a door, hesitant to make noise, and drew in a startled breath. The room was as dim as the others, but in the center stood a grand piano, the likes of which she had never seen. The rich wood and glistening ivory of the instrument were dulled by dust, but a hint of its former glory shone in the elaborately carved bench and the yellowing pages set above the keys. Looking over her shoulder, Lydia saw only the empty hallway. Unable to resist, she approached the piano, hesitantly reaching out a hand. She stroked the silky wood, running a hand along the keys, making marks in the dust. She studied the pages, obviously original music, smiling at the remembered music lessons Georgina had insisted upon. Ensuring once again that no one was behind her, she sat down on the faded velvet of the bench and returned her fingers to the keys. Clumsily at first, and then growing in confidence, she played, becoming absorbed in the music.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He sat, brooding alone in the room beneath the cellars. This was no change, he had done this even before his escape, but today he was especially morbid, deep within himself and his misery. Erik hoped the girl would finish quickly, the rustlings of her movement and business grated on his nerves, his resentment at her easy, innocent life like bile in his throat. He stared moodily into the shadows, his only company since the Disaster, and waited to be alone once more.

A sound roused him from his trance, the unmistakable sweetness of a piano chord.

Surely the girl wasn't playing his piano? The instrument was his prize, built according to his instruction, hidden away in Great Britain, stored in a house bought solely for that purpose. An outrage! The passion of emotion shocked Erik. He had not felt anything so strongly in this dark cell, a prison of his own construction. He had not used the piano, could not play or compose since that fateful day, why should he begrudge her the instrument? He had no use for it or the music she was playing, _his_ music. He waited for the final notes to be played, but was surprised when the song went on, the chit was improvising on his work! Once more the fire of his anger at her audacity surprised him, cooling to leave only amazement at her skill. She had the equal of his own talent at composing though marred by her unsure navigation of the piano. Curiosity seized him, and he rose, desperate to see, to watch her at work. Enough cautiousness remained to silence his footsteps as he used skills that hadn't been exercised in almost a year. Three flights of stairs later, he edged toward the open door, drawn by the music that still flowed from within. He once more flushed with anger and resentment at her rudeness, her easy existence which inspired her to continue _his_ work, which had been born only of despair and longing. In a reckless move, he stormed into the room and took her by the shoulder, whirling her to face him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lydia was shocked from her reverie, the focused contentment that only music could bring her. A strong hand turned her from the piano, she tried to cringe away, but it held her fast.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," She apologized, her face down, anticipating the blow she always received when she played around anyone other than Georgy.

"Isn't there a _job_ you ought to be doing, miss?" A deep, accented voice queried, layered with anger, shock, and something else she couldn't name.

"Yes, I'm sorry," She repeated, still looking down, "I'll get right to it, I'll-" Her voice trailed off in shock as she raised her head and met her employer's startling golden eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I don't own POTO, only the new stuff is mine.

Erik glared at the girl, who simply looked back, her deep brown eyes bright with surprise.

"Something for you?" He growled, surprised at his own vehemence, but driven by a sudden re-awakening of emotions he thought he had buried, "Missing some supplies? I doubt you'll find them at the piano."

"I'm sorry," She said again, Erik began to wonder if she said anything else, "I was beginning to clean, but-"

"Decided that meddling with private property was a more profitable use of your time?" Erik interrupted, "That-

"I wasn't meddling!" She leapt up, eyes blazing. She was a forward little thing, Erik noticed, " I was playing the instrument, not dismantling it!"

"You altered _my_ original music, miss, something any respectable artist would consider a crime!" Though Erik's tone was accusatory, he was satisfied also, the blood thrumming in his veins in excitement of a good argument, one he was winning.

"You- you wrote that?" Her tone immediately changed, it was quiet, incredulous, impressed, " It was beautiful, it-"

"The part that was mine you mean," Erik had never been one to interrupt a compliment, but her disbelieving tone stung.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't appreciate my work!" The heat was back in her voice, Erik had never met a woman with so much fire in her, " If you will excuse me, _sir_, I believe I have work to do!" She attempted to flounce off, but Erik grabbed her arm, and studied her, the smooth, youthful features, a great contrast to her mature voice.

"How old are you?" Far too young to be employed as a maid, that was certain.

"Seventeen," She retorted, her tight expression belying her defiant tone.

"Liar." Erik waited for the truth. She stood fast for a moment, looking intently at his face, then, obviously realizing that he would catch her in another lie, she sighed.

"Fourteen," The hint of defeat in her voice was apparent only for a moment, " but I can work just as well as any woman, no, better-"

"When you're not playing the piano," Erik pointed out, reasonably, he thought.

"I believe I've apologized for that, sir," She said coldly. Erik was suddenly tired. He had forgotten how wearisome the ever-changing female temperament could be.

"Fine, I'll leave you to your duties," He turned to leave, "Next week, however, I do expect you to dust the entire piano, not just the keys" he looked pointedly over his shoulder at the ivory, gleaming from use, and the dull, clouded wood of his prized possession.

"You- you'll let me stay on?" She asked, uncertain again," Even though I'm fourteen?"

"As long as you do what needs to be done," He turned once again to leave.

"Thank you," She called to his retreating figure, "And I really am sorry." Erik's lips twitched and he raised a hand to acknowledge her before turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lydia watched him go and turned back to the room, sighing she picked up the duster and went over to the piano. As she worked, her thoughts turned back to her employer, she wondered what had happened to him, to make his face so horribly disfigured.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Erik walked to his room beneath the cellar, stopping first to fill a glass with water. He reached into a cabinet. He lifted the first one he touched, inspecting it for dust. His eyes widened and he dropped the glass. The sounds upstairs stopped and he heard footsteps approach the stairs. As silently as he could, he dashed to his hideaway, and sat, trembling from the shock his reflection had given him. In his eagerness to confront the girl, he had forgotten he no longer wore a mask!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Phantom, only the new stuff is mine.

**A/N**: Hi guys! Thanks for all of the reviews, they've kept me writing. Some people were a little concerned with the last chapter, don't worry. Erik will not be some crazy pervert in this story, I promise, he will fall in love with someone his own age, I just didn't want _Into the Light _to be some predictable "Erik meets girl-girl disregards deformity-they fall madly in love" phanphic (Not that there's anything wrong with that, I just wanted to do something different).

Also, school starts soon, so the updates may not be as fast, I'll try to write _something_ at least every two weeks, but my schedule will be packed. I'm not giving up on this fic, though, so keep the faith!

Sorry for the long note, but it's over now, I promise. Enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - -- - - -

Lydia was surprised at how quickly she had finished the job. It usually took much longer to clean a house, especially one as large and neglected as this one. However, she was done in a few hours. Packing her supplies in an old bag, she opened the door and quietly let herself out. It was almost possible to think of her employer as a figment of her imagination. The house was silent, the last noise she had heard was the sound of breaking glass. But that glass, and the piano, convinced her that she had met the man. He was obviously reclusive, little wonder, his face likely made it difficult for him to be about during the day. Still, she wondered what had brought him to Great Britain, the accent in his voice was obviously foreign, French perhaps. Lydia shook her head to clear it, she had enough on her mind without a mysterious French man clogging up her thoughts! Hurrying along the streets, she kept her head down, hoping to avoid the pitying stares of the well-to-do.

She was relieved to finally make it home. The cheerful glow in the windows made up for the fact that they were set in a dilapidated house, the only reminder of the parents that had left her alone to care for Georgy. She opened the door calling to her sister, "Georgy, I'm home!" A tall, slim figure appeared in a doorway,

"Hello, Lydie, did everything go all right today?" Georgy reached out to take her bag,

"Of course, why wouldn't it?" Lydia tried not to sound defensive as she handed her bag to Georgy and stepped into their tiny kitchen.

"You're home early," Georgy pointed out, "No need to be snippy," She paused,

"Everything _is _all right, isn't it? You didn't get fired again? I told you that fourteen is too-"

"It's fine, Georgy, really," Lydia interrupted, " I met my employer today, that's all."

"You _met_-"

"He's a composer," Lydia was desperate to get off the subject of her age.

"Really?" Georgy's tone changed, Lydia should have felt guilty for playing on Georgy's love of music, but the conversation had needed a new direction, "Is he any good?"

"He's very good," At least she didn't have to lie, her employer _had_ been incredibly talented.

"Perhaps I could meet him," Georgy sounded hopeful, she'd always wanted to talk with real musicians, but Lydia wasn't sure she wanted Georgy to meet this strange man.

"I don't know, Georgy, he likes his privacy,"

"How do you know that?" Georgy's question was innocent, but Lydia didn't want to tell her about that moment in the piano room, or that face.

"I could tell." Lydia knew that Georgy sensed that there was something else, so she changed the subject, "I'm famished, what should we have for supper?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Georgy allowed Lydia to dominate the conversation, answering only when asked a direct question. She wondered why Lydia was so secretive about her employer. What had happened today? Georgy vowed that she would find out, if only to protect her younger sister, who felt so invulnerable. She was grateful that Lydia watched out for her, but was afraid that in that concern, she would disregard her own safety for Georgy's, and she would not allow Lydia to do that. Besides, how dangerous could a reclusive composer be?


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: POTO's not mine, unfortunately….

**A/N**: Hey guys! Sorry for taking so incredibly long, my schedule was so hectic that I was happy to get three hours sleep, let alone a minute to write something! I read my previous note, that I would write every two weeks, and laughed at my optimism. But I'm back! The updates will still probably be erratic, but I know where I want to go, so they _will_ come, and (hopefully) get longer. Thanks to all those who haven't given up on me, especially you, Duelist's Heiress: this is for you, thanks for getting me moving.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lydia relaxed as she sliced the bread for supper, it was running low, she would have to buy more. It was lucky that she still had her job at the composer's manor, otherwise, she and Georgy would be back to the thin gruel that they had survived on _last_ winter. She was glad that Georgy didn't seem to be too suspicious about the man, it would make things so much more difficult if she decided to make a fuss.Nevertheless, Lydia also hoped that Georgy wouldn't get too _interested_ in him, either, that could prove even more problematic than if she was suspicious. Lydia sighed and shook her head, wishing that she could just stop thinking, even for a minute.

"What's the matter?" asked Georgy, startling Lydia,

"What? Nothing."

"Are you sure? You just heaved that 'My brain is too full' sigh" Georgy laughed at her own expression, "I think I'll keep that, 'my brain is full'"

"You are easily amused," replied Lydia, attempting a scathing tone, but ruining it when she dissolved into fits of giggles herself. They passed the meal happily, laughing at each other and spooning up plain soup, soaking the last of the bread in it. When they finished, they ran, gasping, to the only other room in the house, racing each other to the beaten piano that stood there. Lydia slowed, letting Georgy win, as she saw it, a huge contrast to the one she had played some hours before. It was a sorry sight, paint chipped and peeling, keys cracked and yellow, out of tune, wheezy and clumsy, but it was theirs- hers and Georgy's. Their parents had beggared themselves in buying it, desperate to please Georgy. They had always blamed themselves for the way she turned out, but Georgy didn't know that, she just reveled in the gift, and in hearing Lydia play for her.

"Play the one that starts soft," begged Georgy, "My favorite one, please, Lydie?" Lydia played it, then, as an afterthought, began the one that she had found in the house, remembering the warm, rich tones of the piano in that dusty room. When she finished, Georgy faced her, smiling wonderingly.

"That was a new one, wasn't it?" She asked, "It was amazing, oh Lydie, you have such an incredible gift."

"I got yelled at for it this time," Lydia pointed out, then cringed,

"What do you mean?" Asked Georgy, "Who yelled at you?"

"Everyone always does, at one time or another, after hearing me play," Lydia pointed out, thinking quickly, then let out a huge yawn, "Anyway, it's about time for me sleep, I tired myself out, cleaning that house." And refusing to pursue any conversation that could turn to dangerous subjects, she crossed the room to her shoddy bed and got into it, wriggling to find a comfortable spot. Lydia could see Georgy's shadow as she shook her head, went to the lamp and blew it out, before climbing in next to her.

"Good night, Georgy," whispered Lydia,

"Good night, Lydie," She whispered back, turning over, and almost immediately, falling asleep. Lydia listened to her sister breathe, hoping, as she did every night, that she would be strong enough to care for them both.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sleep also eluded the composer. Erik had sat alone in the dark in a numb shock, losing all track of time. He could not believe that, with all his wariness, he run right up to someone and faced them, maskless. Nor could he believe that he had gotten no reaction, the girl had been young, he should have seemed like a monster to her, but she didn't look like she had noticed at all. Her surprise had come only from his abrupt treatment of her, and even that didn't last long. Erik smirked slightly at remembering the way she had lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him. It had reminded him very much of Madame Giry, who had treated many men in this manner, even him. Though this serving girl lacked the fear in her eyes that the Madame always saved for him, he thought bitterly, attempting to rise from his cramped position. Remembering that fear, he berated himself, he had let some worthless _servant_ get to him, when she would only run screaming in the end. Erik tried to regain the cool, apathetic demeanor that he had worn for nearly a year. Besides, he realized, she probably wouldn't come back, not after seeing his face. Erik was surprised when that thought bothered him. It's just because she could play, he thought stubbornly, then grumbled, he would have to find another maid.


End file.
